Catalyst_ A Tale of the Barque Cats - Anne McCaffrey [73]
“Becoming what?” I asked. Pshaw-Ra laid his big pointy ears back a bit and showed his fangs. He didn’t like being interrupted and let me know in no uncertain terms that he thought mine a stupid question.
“Becoming One!”
“One what?” I asked. But now I was playing with him. I had a good idea what eating the shiny bugs did, at least for me. It made me one—sort of—with the boy.
He did not answer for some time but started washing his chest and shoulders as if I were not there. Long loving licks from the base of his throat, as high as he could reach, down to his belly, his rough tongue easily smoothing his sleek fur. Hah! I’d like to have seen him do that with a soft fine coat of slightly curly fur such as mine was becoming.
I moved my front paws a fraction forward in the direction of the fishie treats. He didn’t notice. Another fraction. From beneath his top whiskers he sent me a baleful glare. “Do not start with me, un-sanctified son of a ship’s cat. I am Pshaw-Ra, ancient mariner of the stars, light-bringer to the universe, and I will smack you so hard you’ll spin around and swallow your own tail.”
I was young but I was already as large as he was. He might be old but he was small and slim, whereas my entire race tended toward substantial size. Fighting with Git’s get throughout my land-bound days had made me tough, I believed, and my youth made me quick. Not nearly quick enough, as it turned out. I put my right front paw one claw length forward and found myself knocked two cat lengths back against the bulkhead of Pshaw-Ra’s small cabin. My cheek smarted, my whiskers ached, and I was sure my poor little tufted ear was shredded.
I ran for the exit, for the comfort of Kibble, who would take me back to Mother to wash it all better. But the long twisting cat tunnel was dark and full of crawling things. I clawed at the closed opening, crying to be released from my imprisonment with this strange vicious beast who picked on poor little helpless kittens, but no one answered. My sharp ears heard no movement. My sensitive nose detected no smell but the mustiness of the corridor, the odor of Pshaw-Ra, and an intoxicating aroma that reminded me of both salmon and catnip.
If only my boy were out there instead of Kibble, he would have heeded my cries. I scratched until my claws shredded and my paws ached. I cried myself hoarse but no response came until I felt teeth close on the tip of my beautiful tail.
“Monster!” I cried, whirling as fast as I could in the narrow darkness of the corridor. “Fiend! Wild canine in a cat coat! You tricked me! Let me out of here now so I can return to my ship.”
“Your ship is far away, son. Did you not hear the cries of your provider? Did you not feel my vessel free itself of the bondage beam? What are you complaining about? You were dissatisfied with the female, the ship, and even the company of your own mother. I took that from your thoughts.”
“You did?” I sat back on my haunches and licked my sore paws, my sore face, my poor little ear that had a tiny torn place just above the fluffy tuft adorning its center.
“I can do such things, can read your wishes, intentions, disappointments, and dreads as well as the thoughts you send me,” Pshaw-Ra said proudly, blinking his shining gold-coin eyes shut, so that for a nanosecond the darkness was unrelieved. I could tell he expected me to be impressed, but what I had actually meant—as he would have known if he were as good as he claimed—was that I didn’t realize he could do it too. I’d been reading thoughts—and the thoughts under thoughts—my entire life. “What is the use of my ancient and all-encompassing wisdom without a suitable pupil to receive my teachings? You will do.”
Some wise teacher! He had missed the obvious. I didn’t want to be there. So I made it easy for him to understand, punctuating